


The Serenade

by gratefulsugar



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, HP: EWE, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-04-25 18:02:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14384070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gratefulsugar/pseuds/gratefulsugar
Summary: The year is 1999. The war isn't yet over. The group has been shacking up at 12 Grimmauld Place and Draco Malfoy switched sides, taking sanctuary with them. One night, when Hermione can't sleep, she hears the faint thrum of the piano upstairs. ONE-SHOT. AU! EWE. Please read my Author's Notes :)





	The Serenade

Disclaimer: I own NOTHING. J.K. Rowling is the sole creator and owner of the Harry Potter universe and its characters. I worship her.

AN: I know I should be updating my other Dramione story, Teacher's Pet, and I have Chapter 9 half written already but this little snippet has been in the back of my mind for weeks now and I really wanted to get it all out. (TO my Archive Readers: Will be posting Teacher's Pet soon. I have been a ff.net chick my whole life but was recommended to the Archive by a friend and have decided to see what it's all about. So far I like it.)

Backstory and Setting: The year is 1999. The second wizarding war is not yet over. Voldemort still lingers, waiting to make his next move. Not all of the Horcruxes are destroyed. It has been almost two years since our beloved main characters have graduated from Hogwarts, each of them now around the age of nineteen/twenty. The events of Half-Blood Prince had not taken place until their seventh year and the Deathly Hallows is irrelevant. Epilogue, what epilogue? Hogwarts is fine and not yet taken over by pure-blood Nazis. Snape is still alive, and although he had still murdered Dumbledore he was discovered by Voldemort as a traitor so is currently staying at Grimmauld Place with the members of the Order that reside there, which includes Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. Draco at this point defected from the Death Eaters and has taken sanctuary with them. Basically I maneuvered everything canon-wise around to be able to write this story. So let go of everything you knew and jump on in, the water's warm. Even if it sounds dumb or misconstrued, just enjoy it for what it really is: smut. And a moderate amount of fluffy goodness.

The Serenade

One-Shot

It was mid October, and nearing ten o'clock when Hermione Granger sat herself down on the rickety old loveseat located in the ground floor living room of 12 Grimmauld Place. She had a warm mug of herbal honey tea glued in her hand, ready to unwind. She pulled a quilted throw blanket over her legs, which were clad in only black velvet pajama shorts and yawned as she recounted the events of the past few weeks. The threat of Voldemort was still at large, although he and his motley followers stayed in hiding… for the time being. Rumor had it that Voldemort was much weakened, and his followers were diminishing.

It was unbelievable to Hermione that they'd actually been able to complete their schooling about year and a half ago when all this was going on around them. The idea of a Horcrux had not been discovered until their seventh year, and then later before graduation, Headmaster Albus Dumbledore was murdered by Severus Snape, who until now, was considered a traitor to the Order. It was realized that Snape and Dumbledore had a premeditative agreement, that if amateur Death Eater Draco Malfoy failed in his task to kill the old wizard that the Slytherin senior would take his place and finish the deed. In retrospect, Albus had only so much time to live anyway, stricken with a terrible curse from Marvolo Gaunt's ring, thus it could be thought of as a mercy killing.

Although an excellent Occlumens, it only took one slip up by Severus, and many of the other Death Eaters' doubts, for Voldemort to find out the truth and declare him a traitor. The old Potions Master fled to the safe haven of the Black family's ancestral home and sought forgiveness and retribution from Harry Potter himself and the rest of them, who were shocked to learn the real story. Harry had immediately leapt into Snape's memories with Legilimency, which he'd come to master, to prove the man's supposed innocence. After many long nights the "Golden Trio" as they were dubbed, plus Ginny, finally started warming up to the ex-professor, understanding that he was a true hero, albeit the way it looked on the outside. For the subtle veracity of the situation, was that Snape had been looking out for Harry all along. He'd been madly in love with Lily Potter since the Slytherin first met her all those years ago.

And to make matters more complicated, a month ago, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Remus Lupin, and Nymphadora Tonks showed up suddenly with a disheveled and exhausted Draco Malfoy in tow, claiming that he'd ran away in secret and sought help from the Ministry, begging them to keep him safe. Malfoy wanted to be reprieved of his sins, stating that he agreed with the beliefs of the Order and that he would join their side if they'd have him. It was learned that Voldemort executed Lucius and Narcissa in a moment of anger, deciding they were no longer of use, an issue that was mundane to say the least, and Draco might have been next if he hadn't gotten away.

After an entire evening of questioning and discussions it was agreed that Malfoy would be great help to them. He knew well-kept secrets and Death Eater information as well as something he figured out on his own that was of immense importance: Voldemort's hybrid reticulated python, Nagini, was one of his Horcruxes. Not even Snape had come to the conclusion. Draco had relayed that he'd learned what Horcruxes were at a young age. Apparently, at Malfoy Manor there is a gigantic personal library full of ancient books and scrolls as well as artifacts, many of which contain or give data of dark magic and this is where the Malfoy heir spent most of his days growing up, educating himself on as much as he could. With just a smidge of reluctance, mostly on Ron's part, they had all decided to let him stay there with them, and Lupin, Tonks and Shacklebolt made their exit.

Since then, the large, four-storied estate had been cleaned up and improved better than ever before. Hermione and Ginny stayed together in their usual room on the second floor and Harry and Ron in their dwelling on the third floor across the hall from where Snape was shacking up. On the fourth floor, they'd fixed up Regulus Black's old bedroom for Draco to stay in, across from Sirius' room which was left untouched, per Harry's request. The removal of the huge portrait of insufferable old hag, Walburga Black had proven to be one of the more difficult challenges so far in staying at Grimmauld Place. It had long been attached to the wall with a Permanent Sticking Charm since before her death in '85 and up until recently they were unsuccessful in taking it down.

Three days after Draco Malfoy was dropped off, the blonde Slytherin could take no more of the incessant screaming and racist muttering of the painted witch and he took it upon himself to use a spell he'd managed to learn to undo the charm. Granted, the spell had dark magic written all over it, but no one complained, not even Hermione, for they wanted that life-sized portrait gone forever. It was no wonder none of the Gryffindors had any knowledge of the counter spell, and once again Malfoy explained he'd gained the insight from a text in the massive library at the manor.

Hermione was stunned, of course, to watch Malfoy go to such great lengths to get rid of such an extremely offensive pureblood artifact. It was a contradiction to the nature of the boy, now a man she reasoned, in which she'd grown accustomed to. She'd have to throw all of that out the window, and it annoyed her. It shouldn't have, but it did. She should be glad the git switched sides and had become a useful source of information for the Order, but perhaps she couldn't let go of all those years of unfair judgments, stinging insults and obnoxious bullying. Perhaps she was having trouble forgiving him, and she wanted to, she did. She honestly felt very bad for him. Malfoy had grown up in a world far different from her own, bred and groomed to be just like his elitist, chauvinistic father. He was constantly made to believe he was superior, that those who were different by blood or wealth were the dirt under his boot, and that he was to worship the Dark Lord. He was forced to do horrible, unthinkable acts, and now stripped of his family and his livelihood, he was left with nothing… and nothing had made him humble beyond belief.

Maybe she was having trouble with forgiveness because Malfoy had barely even acknowledged her at all since his arrival. When he wasn't avoiding eye contact with her or making sure he was not left alone in the same room as her, he was isolating, sulking in the upstairs bedroom. It wasn't necessarily just her he was eluding. He'd been distant from the lot of them, but mostly from her.

She'd been fine with it at first, but as he evaded her more and more Hermione began to get somewhat irritated. Why wouldn't he speak with her? He'd practically said two words to her in an entirety of four weeks. Maybe he was feeling guilty, and his pride was getting in the way? Or he was embarrassed, ashamed? Or maybe he simply just hated her still. She'd given him plenty of opportunities to say so.

There was only one moment her and Draco had been utterly alone, and that was in the hallway on the second floor. Hermione was making her way towards the drawing room, eyes downcast at a book she was reading and Draco had come downstairs from the top floor and was passing by. He stole a glance, and then quickly looked away. As they moved towards their destinations, Hermione's shoulder accidentally knocked right into his arm, and they were forced to turn around and face each other. Primarily, Malfoy's expression was that of complete contempt, but as Hermione stammered a, "S-sorry," his face instantly softened. Then his mouth opened and closed twice, unable to form any words. He turned back around and went to leave so she swiftly walked away, feeling somewhat offended. That was a week and a half ago.

As she sipped from her cup she heard footsteps nearing the living room and she perked up in her seat a bit, wondering who it was. Ginevra's shock of copper hair and freckled cheeks appeared at the doorway. They shared a smile and Ginny sat down next to the brunette. "Ruminating again?" The youngest Weasley asked her. Hermione sighed in vexation, knowing full well she was doing just that.

"Only slightly," she answered quietly. Ginny put her arm around the shoulders of the girl who had not long ago turned twenty years of age.

"I've been contemplating recent circumstances myself, actually," the red-head stated. "So strange, that when you think you know someone, it turns out to be the other way around and they surprise you." It didn't take a genius to know Ginny was referring to both Slytherins currently residing in their makeshift home and hideout. Hermione only nodded. "Anyway, I think it'll get easier having them around. They both have shared a lot, proving to have very valuable information, and thank Merlin that terrible portraits been disposed of. I don't understand how I went for so long with that thing shouting about, calling me a blood traitor!" she chuckled heartily and Hermione sniggered.

"Tell me about it. Having to tip toe around and not talk too loud was driving me insane. It's rather quiet now, peaceful even." She added.

"That it is," said Ginny. After a minute she got up to leave. "Well, I'm off to bed. I just wanted to make sure you're alright. Will you be coming up soon? Harry and Ron have already dozed off, I checked. They wake up too early if you ask me, and in bed by nine. What kind of way to live is that?" Hermione's lips curled into a small smile.

"Oh, I don't know, that's how I used to be, if I wasn't up studying or breaking the rules. These days, I have trouble falling asleep. I'll be up in a little while, okay?" Ginevra nodded, patting Hermione on the head.

"Yes, lamb," she said affectionately and they both mirthfully chortled. "Goodnight, then." Hermione bid her sweet dreams and the Weasley left the room, going up to their shared quarters.

About an hour and fifteen minutes had passed by since Ginny's departure and Hermione remained curled up on the cushy, yet not very sturdy loveseat. Earlier she had retrieved a tattered book from one of the shelves and was skimming through it to hopefully get her to feel sleepier. The downpour of rain had only just begun when she turned another page, but then the strangest thing happened. Amidst the heavy showers of wet weather and thunder booming in the distance was the faint thrum of a piano. At first Hermione was convinced she had already fallen asleep and was currently dreaming, but when she came to her senses her body started moving without her consent. She set her book down, pulled up her mid-calf knit socks, slipped out of the living room and stopped at the base of the stairwell, listening to the sad, soft melody drifting daintily to her ears.

Who was awake when it was nearly midnight, tickling the ivories of that ragged piano in the drawing room? She deduced that it couldn't have been Harry, Ron or Ginny. It was almost unfathomable to think of the ex-Potions Master playing an instrument, although nothing could shock her after everything that happened. The only logical explanation was that it was Malfoy, and this made her nervous, but oh, so curious. She found her feet were already shuffling up the stairs, doing her best to stay as quiet as a mouse.

As she got further down the hallway, she noticed the drawing room door was partially cracked open, and seemed relatively dim inside, save for the cozy glow of the fireplace and the occasional bolt of lightning that purged the house. She edged closer and closer until she was right outside. Hermione knew the door was creaky so she opted to peer through the small space instead of risking exposing herself. Here she was spying on Draco Malfoy as he delicately ran his fingers along the black and white keys. The tune that emanated was full of melancholia, a hauntingly bittersweet rendition of what could possibly be how the silver-haired man felt at that moment, and it was beautiful. Hermione had never been so impressed by him in her life. Malfoy was more than capable of producing original songs, or so she reckoned. It was a song she couldn't place, something she'd never heard before. It was perfect, and yet he played it as if on cue. It had to be from the heart. The thunder rumbled as a backdrop for the music.

She took a small step, wanting to get a closer look. He had the same pristine posture she'd grown to recognize, although his wiry back and shoulders were relaxed. His head flowed and ebbed, going along with the melody, his silvery tresses swaying with each movement, being as they had grown substantially since the end of their schooling. Hermione had never seen him like this, so utterly raw, a side of him unveiled. She wanted to see more.

And just like that the uninhibited moment was cut short by the loud grate of the floorboard beneath her as she shifted the weight of her legs. Draco stopped playing at the stir of noise. He stiffened and abruptly swiveled around on the bench to see who was there. A flicker of surprise glinted in his eyes at the sight of her but was quickly washed out to his usual emotionless features. A powerful surge of lightning crackled beyond the window, illuminating the whole room which caused a stirring of powerful emotions within her that she wasn't familiar with.

Hermione wasn't sure what to do. They just stared at each other for what seemed like eons but was only a small amount of time. Timidly, although without much consideration, her body once again moved on its own accord and before she knew it she had entered, shutting the door behind her. He seemed to accept his fate and gazed back at the keys in front of him.

"I didn't think anyone was awake," he began. "I was trying to play as quietly as possible." It was the most he'd said to her all month. She observed that he was wearing a long-sleeved charcoal colored thermal jumper and blue and white flannel sleeping pants.

Hermione stepped forward, placing her hand on the end of the piano. "I didn't know you were so musically inclined."

Unlike the many times before when he was younger, it was a natural thing for the boy to puff up his chest and lift his chin proudly when given a compliment, but this was not the same Draco. He'd grown up and become more modest as it were. "Uh, not really, no, I learned when I was young. The manor has a piano." His eyes glossed over with distant memories long gone.

"Oh, please," she said. "It was beautiful." They both blushed at this; Hermione because she had never spoken so nicely to him and Draco because he really didn't think he was going to be discovered that night and was not prepared for the admiration. He gave her a curt nod, and made to get up but she caught him off guard by extending her arm to stop him, a gesture to sit back down. "Wait," he gazed up at her, bemused. "Um, is there any chance you'd be willing to stay and play me more?" Her Gryffindor courage was very apparent. Not only did she yearn to get to know the new him, but this was a side of Draco that heavily piqued her interest. He seemed to be in his innate element in front of a piano.

He thought her request over for a moment, unsure of what the outcome would bring him, but if he were being honest with himself one of the reasons he'd been avoiding her was because of a decade-long, repressed infatuation he had for the brown-eyed, curly-haired minx. He'd lied to himself time and time again, repeating in his head that she was of dirty blood, below him, prissy, a misfit and all of these things made her ugly. He'd only been kidding himself. Like a schoolboy crush on a girl he couldn't have, he'd maltreated and oppressed her in any affronting way he could manage, completely sullying her opinion of him, and then it turned out his whole life was misleading, a trick of the worst kind. He was brought up on mistruths of an ancient, traditionalized hierarchy that shouldn't exist. His mother and father were killed for it, he had to get away, and here he was seeking refuge in the sanctuary she resided in, forced to face her. He was ashamed and remorseful, and wanted nothing more than to apologize but he felt like an idiot around her. How could anything make up for what he'd done? She was standing right in front of him, wearing a baby-pink sweater which complimented her golden skin and showing off her long, lean legs. Was she trying to drive him mad?

"Uh… yes?" He was panicking, but tried to keep a cool exterior. "What would you, uh, like me to play?" Hermione seemed downright gleeful at his appeasement.

"Anything," she shrugged. "Anything you'd like, just play… from the heart."

His misty, smoke soaked azure eyes penetrated her shining amber russet ones. Hermione's face sweltered with beet red hues at his fixed stare, wondering if she'd upset him. He looked reluctant, doubtful, like he was holding back, but there was something else; like an undisclosed secret threatening to spill over, and a gentleness she'd never seen in him, unbidden with magnanimity. She unconsciously toyed with her hair which fell to her hips, miles longer than when he last saw her at school. Her eyes wavered, looking to the floor and back at him a couple times, becoming more and more anxious at his hesitation.

"Uh, perhaps I should- "

She turned to go when she felt his hand on her arm.

"No, I…" he spoke, swallowing the lump in his throat. "…I have something." Hermione turned back and waited patiently for him to ready himself. He rolled his shoulders, cracked his neck and then his knuckles, relaxing as he spread his lengthy pale fingers over the ivory instrument.

The poetic organum that resonated as his digits lightly pressed and glided chilled her to the bone, sending shivers up her spine and the fine hairs on the back of her neck to stand on end. It was a somber, pensive sound with dreamy romantic undertones. It sounded like heartbreak, an unrequited love, and the result was stunning. Draco closed his eyes, as if memories were flooding his mind as he played, and played. Hermione leaned against the frame of the piano, careful not to disturb his focus. The minutes went on until he slowly finished in a syrupy sorrowful ending that left her with beaded tears stinging at her vision.

The theme of the night must have been to do without thinking because suddenly she was sitting next to him on the bench as the last notes gradually echoed to silence. She wasn't exactly certain why she felt this comfortable. It could have been the sincere, enticing melody he'd just serenaded her with but she wanted to get closer. She smiled ethereally and he returned the favor, lips twitching into a small smirk. "Did you just come up with that?" He nodded. "What were you… thinking about as you played it?"

Draco didn't answer at first, but then said, "The real question is… of whom was I thinking about." His eyes glinted playfully and his light-blonde brow quirked up, amused at her enthralled reaction.

"Oh?" Now, if not fascinated before, she surely wanted to know, but feared to be too intrusive. She was hyper aware of how near their bodies were. He was emanating warmth, contradicting his icy exterior. His stare bore into hers and she righted herself to face him a bit more. Draco lifted his hand to move aside long strands of coffee-almond locks behind her shoulder, nimbly resting on the curve of her neck. The thunder boomed right outside the house. Hermione's heart thumped wildly against her ribcage. He had never touched her before so willingly, never on purpose. He was nervous too. There was a ringing in his ears, a dull hum of the blood pulsing through his veins. She looked angelic to him, like a goddess.

Draco leaned in ever so slightly, and her breath hitched, her throat as dry as the Sahara Desert. He licked his lips. "It was you." He muttered, barely audible as he brought his mouth to hers in a connection that made time stand still. His hand was still at her neck, caressing her with his thumb. His lips were like buttery pillows. She moaned, opening herself to him and his wet tongue smoothly swept inside and around. She tasted like hibiscus tea and honey. He'd always wanted this, he'd wanted her. He released her, dipping his head lowly to breathe in her scent. It was a mixture of vanilla and peaches.

"I… d-don't…" Hermione stuttered. She was surprised not just at him, but at herself. She hadn't ever entertained any carnal thoughts of the handsome Slytherin until moments ago, when his raincloud eyes shone with genuine attraction for her and his lips sensually melted with hers. When his talent for music was revealed she certainly swooned, but she didn't expect him to play an original song about her, as his muse. The melody had been so amorous, a picturesque tone of two star-crossed lovers. It wouldn't have occurred to her that he was thinking about her.

She'd never been in love, although once thought she was with Ronald but things hadn't turned out as previously planned. There wasn't any legitimate, sky-shattering passion between her and the Weasley, but all it took was one song, one look, one kiss from Draco and she felt herself falling. She was catapulting through space and trying to cling for dear life. Hermione was afraid. Lightning shook the room and without warning she abruptly stood and ran for the door, not looking back. She didn't see his hand reaching out, missing the warmth of her skin.

Damn it all, if Hermione wasn't getting any sleep before, she definitely wasn't now.

It was days later, and Draco's turn to worry as the Gryffindor had fully evaded him at all costs. It was the evening, almost eleven o'clock, and he'd just had a conversation with Snape, Harry and Ron. Apparently they'd had an idea where one of Voldemort's Horcruxes was. A vision came to Harry that included thoughts of Ravenclaw and Snape suggested the Horcrux might be Rowena Ravenclaw's lost diadem. The lot of them, Ginny and Hermione too, would be going into Hogwarts to find clues the next day.

Everyone was in their respective rooms and thought to be asleep. Draco was showering in the bathroom, thinking things over for the millionth time. He had kissed her. It only lasted not even a minute but it was glorious. He certainly wasn't planning on doing anything like that, no, not at all, but then she waltzed in on him, wearing really cute pajamas and showing off more of her long legs than he'd ever seen. He had to admit to himself that he'd grown ever more attracted to her since he'd shown up at their doorstep. Her long hair was soft, fell in big curls and was no longer frizzy. She was a woman now, and so beautiful. She was mesmerized by his musical abilities, and his song he came up with just for her.

He wouldn't have dreamed she'd receive him as well as she did. He expected a slap across the face, maybe. Sure, he knew he was ultimately very charming, but he also knew that she was different, and wouldn't just drop her clothes for him like all the rest, that's why he wasn't in the least surprised when she scampered off, escaping his grasp. It was a bit surprising, however, that she hadn't confronted him since. He thought by now she'd come around, hollering at him for being a lecher, but she didn't. It made him wonder.

Hermione snuck out of her bedroom and down to the kitchen which was in the heart of the basement. Her tummy was rumbling because she skipped dinner and her body was crying out for something to drink. Sure, Ginevra had brought her up some of the stew she'd made but that was hours ago and it wasn't substantial enough to get her through the night. She opened the refrigerator, took out some marmalade and spread it over a scone. She stood eating, and gulped down a hefty glass of filtered water. She hadn't bothered to slip on pants, so she was sheathed in only a white, over-sized, off the shoulder sweater, knee high black socks and sage green, boy-short knickers. If anyone would walk in they surely might drop dead from the scantily way she was dressed, especially Snape, and she assumed no one was awake. She failed to learn by now that assumptions always got her in trouble.

Why did Malfoy do that? Why did he play a love song for her, about her? Why did he kiss her? Could it be he actually had feelings for her? Did he… love her? Hermione shook her head. 'No, that's silly.' She thought. That couldn't be it.

And there he was.

Draco headed downstairs, fancying himself a glass of Ogden's. He was still toweling his wet hair, clad in only his blue plaid pajama pants. He sauntered down the stone steps to the basement and when he looked up he almost fainted, gaping at the sight before him. There was Hermione, dressed in only her knickers and a sweater, looking extremely scrumptious. She gasped, taken off guard by the intrusion as well as his naked upper-body. Her freckled face and neck were as red as a radish. She quickly dropped the end of the scone she'd been nibbling on, forced the rest of her water down and made to leave, trying to escape him once more, but he was not letting that happen this time.

He sashayed in front of her, to the left and the right as she tried to pass. She tried not to look at him, refusing to make eye contact. She huffed, getting more flustered and frustrated by the second. "Malfoy, if you would please- "

"No." he stated simply, amused at her indignation. She finally peered up at him, grey eyes locking with brown ones. She observed the light cerulean that surrounded his irises, and he also coincidentally studied the flecks of emerald in hers. It was a stare off, and Hermione was losing. After a moment, Hermione found her bravado.

"Why did you… play that song about me?"

He hesitated before answering, astonished at her boldness. "You asked me to play a song for you?"

Her hands went to her hips in annoyance. "No, no, that's not what I asked. I asked you to play anything, from the heart. So why in Merlin's name would you play a song with me as the subject and something so… so…" she struggled with saying the words.

"So… what, Granger?" he egged on, throwing his towel over to the table.

"It was so bloody romantic… and sad sounding!"

He pressed a long finger to his own lips. "Shh… you're going to wake everyone up, and then where will we be?" She was getting more and more irate. Truth be told, he didn't want to tell her the reason, albeit obvious what it was.

"Why are you even down here?" she questioned.

"I could ask you the same thing, standing down here in just your knickers, which are green, by the way."

"Urgh, what does that have to do with anything?" her fists were balled up at her sides.

"You'd be liable to give ol' Snape a heart attack. It's Slytherin's color?" he said pointing. He was really talking about himself, though. Draco thought she certainly looked fetching in his favorite hue. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I'm sorry, since when did Slytherin claim the color green?"

"Since the year 990 A.D. when Hogwarts was founded. C'mon, Granger, I thought you knew everything."

Oooh, she wanted to strangle him. Their bodies were getting closer. They looked as if they were going to pounce one another, like lions. "You still haven't answered my question, Malfoy." They both knew he was eluding.

"I don't have to answer it, and I'm not going to." He stated matter of fact. Despite him being way taller, their faces were mere inches apart. His figure loomed over her and she peered up at him, scrunching her nose.

"You are insufferable, and always will be." She whispered haughtily. His scent engulfed her, like earth and pine, reeking pleasantly of masculinity.

"And you're a prissy, naughty little brat." He hissed waspishly.

Their mouths bonded together in a searing kiss, neither one of them showing any mercy. Her hands ran through his silky, slick hair, grabbing the ends at the base of his neck. His arms wrapped around her waist, reeling her in closer against his bare stomach. She tugged on his bottom lip, eliciting from him a small whimper. He ran his tongue along the insides of her mouth, battling hers for dominance. 'Forget the Ogden's,' he thought. 'I want to get drunk on her.'

Draco lifted her up and she complied, wrapping her legs around him. His hands squeezed her squishy bum, spreading her cheeks a tad and letting his fingers slide across her core. Her head lolled backwards, disconnecting their mouths and he groaned at the revelation of her sodden panties. She was so wet, and willing. He edged them towards the back of the table and laid her down atop it, hovering over her. He ferociously gazed down and she bit her lip nervously. Draco leaned in and trailed hot kisses down her neck and shoulder, to her collarbone before pulling the top of her sweater to reveal a pert, naked breast. His hand reached up, massaging it in his palm and his tongue darted out and laved around her taut, hardened pebble. She moaned. Her skin was deliciously soft and tasted oh, so good. Hermione wrapped her legs around him tighter, bringing his hips toward hers, and she gasped as she felt his long, hard manhood protrude directly into her panties.

Unconsciously, he pushed against her and grunted with her breast still in his mouth, sending vibration through her body. He let go and captured her in another kiss with his eyes open, thoroughly enjoying the reaction he got as he ground himself into her. He was having trouble containing himself. Draco released her and slipped his thumbs through her underwear, gliding them down her legs slowly, giving her a chance to tell him no, but the rejection never came. He hungrily looked her body over. Her sweater was lopsided, showing off the plush breast he'd attended to, and it was pushed upward, giving him a view of her flat, tanned stomach. Her bottom half was completely in the buff, save for her socks, and without warning he grabbed her hips and dipped in, ravenously licking straight up her slit, and rolled his tongue around her sensitive bundle of nerves. She let out a wail at the sensation and her legs kicked about. Draco waved his hand in the air, utilizing his wandless magic, and silenced the room from the outside as well as closing and locking the door. He lifted her up more, grabbing her hips and forcing her back off the table as he vigorously ate up her juices. "Dr-Draco!" she cried out. He moaned into her womanhood as she climaxed into his mouth.

Draco set her back evenly onto the table and wiped his wet face, eyeing her up and ready for more. He tore down his pajama pants and grasped his stiff, lengthy cock in his hand. Hermione bashfully held her knuckles to her cheek as she watched him, eyes widening at his nude form before her. His… everything was truly impressive. She'd never been so aroused in her young life. He bent over her and recaptured her lips before looking her in the face for any signs of reluctance. "Tell me not to." He spoke gruffly.

She said nothing and reached down, bringing his tip to her entrance. He was astounded by her, mystified. He felt dizzy but held it together as he impaled himself into her, inch by inch. Draco was then all the way inside and she was so tight around him he saw stars. They stilled for a moment, before he took himself out and thrust back in, causing them both to groan at the friction. He did it again. One of his hands grabbed at her lithe waist while the other tangled itself in her soft tendrils. "You're so damn beautiful." He mumbled, kissing her. She scratched at his back, digging in her nails as he pushed in and out, over and over. They echoed each other's moans and matched every movement. He went harder and harder, lost in himself and so near to his own climax. At that point he could have told her the truth; that he'd always loved her, in his own, sick way. "Her…mione!" he screamed as he spilled his seed into her. Draco collapsed over her, convulsing and bucking his hips with the rest of his release. She ran her hands comfortingly along him before resting at his sides. He pecked her cheek once he came to some sense of reality and she turned her head to meet his mouth with her own, kissing him diligently, content with what transpired.

"Draco," she began after a moment. "I think I know why."

"Why? Why, what?" he asked.

"Why you played me that song."

"No, don't say it." He begged, taking himself out of her and bringing her upwards, holding her as she stood from the table. "You're an imbecile if you can't figure it out, anyway." She kept quiet after that and they both smiled as he held her tightly in his arms, wondering when they could do it again.

AN: Alright well that's it then. I know I stretched the truth a good amount to make this story work but what can I say? CREATIVE LICENSURE. Lol anyway, thank you so much for reading and if you could, take the time to favorite and review, it means the world to me, and is so greatly appreciated. I may or may not write a sequel, so let me know what you think! Cheers, loves!


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